


When the Rains Came

by threewalls



Series: Schirra [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: 689 OV, Camping, Gen, Giza Plains, M/M, Mud, Rain, Thunder and Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-28
Updated: 2008-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 10:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/159815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threewalls/pseuds/threewalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their hunting trips never quite go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Rains Came

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sheffiesharpe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheffiesharpe/gifts).



When the rains came to Giza, they came quickly. Retiring to their tent from an arid, sun-baked wasteland, they woke to what seemed a different country, one of river, marsh and rolling banks that Basch almost recognised from his childhood.

They have real _landsfisk_ here, large and fast, capable of putting up a fight. He's already wondering what they'll taste like, if the building storm means it'll be dry enough later to cast a fire. Chilled by the rain, Basch can't tell which of their fins' slices connect, but he can't have blocked them all: his skin's beginning to prickle, his sword feels weighted as he raises it to cast a healing spell.

Basch pivots; something's rushing up behind him, Vossler?-- Basch throws his sword-- slams into his chest, tackling Basch to the muddy sod.

"Entite." Vossler points with the tilt of his head. "No magic."

It's smaller than the stories say, but no less awe-inspiring, its indigo aurora crackling lightning as it drifts through the air. It flashes with no thunder. They say entites carry electrum at their hearts, but battling them is for fools and mages, and Vossler hasn't moved.

Basch can hear the rhythm of the few lines Vossler's lips repeats-- eyes on the entite, his grip on Basch's wrist-- but doesn't catch all the words. Vossler's more on Basch than the ground, and the second thought Basch has is remembering all Vossler's complaints about the mud, the Rains, the way their tent has become the only place to stay warm.

A pack of hyenas come before the entite's vanished from view, but they're distracted by the toad that Vossler felled earlier. Vossler rolls to the side, tensed flat.

"On my count."

Basch nods.

They grab for their swords, and Basch a fish, and then: they run.

There's mud clumping in Basch's hair, marsh water trickling through the rare gaps the rain had missed. It stinks, but the rain is already rinsing him. Basch is looking forward to his rest tonight.


End file.
